i have my arms tied with catch twenty-two’s and my nails dig into my sleepy skin like double-edged swords. i don’t think of myself as any sort of decent human being and i will never forget what she said that made me believe that as fact. i don’t believe in compliments and i refuse to acceptance their existence. when you don’t get what you want, let it be the past and let the past humble you and nothing more. sometimes, i want to work hard for something and hock a loogie into humility’s ear and whisper, “i deserve this. fuck you”. i wish i was silent. i wish i didn’t have a girlfriend when i did and i wish i didn’t go home. i wish i worked so hard that with the last gesture of consciousness i could afford was a smile.

and here i am. writing about it, instead of making it better for myself. but it’s too late. it’s never too late.

if my ego and my pride and my arrogance was a person, i wish i had the strength and the balls to beat every ounce of life residing within him. that i may watch him die so i can watch the possibility of a greater life grow as his last breath is squeezed out from between my grip.